Christianity – Prayers Over The Kitchen Sink

Jesus Speaks for Himself

“It is finished.”

I went online and ordered a beautiful crucifix. I had other, smaller ones in our home that hung on walls and above doorways, gifts from baptisms and first communions. The one in my oldest daughter’s room displayed a golden corpus Christi on a pretty pearly white cross.

But this one was different. It was larger and more realistic with Jesus in the fullness of his passion. Our Lord depicted with all of the human nakedness and woundedness that one could imagine. When I opened the package it came in, it took my breath away but, as I hung it on my wall, an unexpected thought arose:

“I don’t want them to see you like this, Lord.”

Of course, to me it was exquisite, but I thought of the impression this raw depiction of Christ could make on my family and friends that were less acquainted with the Gospel. I wanted them to know the Jesus that I knew, who’s strength I boasted of.

I didn’t want to present what seems so dark without immediately explaining how it’s really the light! I didn’t want them to see the ugliness of the cross without knowing the beauty of the resurrection on the other side. I didn’t want them to see the Savior as this victim, this lamb led to slaughter, but as the Almighty, the King of Kings! I didn’t want to scare anyone off or give people the wrong idea.

But I put it up anyway, because I knew that if I wanted to show myself and others the truth about Jesus, if I desired to honor Him by displaying the fullness of His glory, His power, His strength and His Kingship;

THIS WAS IT!

Because this is what holiness looks like. This is what true love is.

During my lost years trying on different protestant churches I was told that a cross with a corpus Christi was offensive by a woman who was showing me around. We walked into a theater-like room complete with a stage above which a large cross hung, backlit with blue and purple lights. She pointed to it explaining, “We don’t keep Jesus on the Cross, because He isn’t there anymore, He’s in Heaven!”

At the time it made sense to me who was trying to reconcile my love for Jesus while also rejecting the context of Catholicism which I no longer understood at the time. It brought to mind a moment from my childhood when I encountered an icon of a suffering Christ. It was a small portrait in a golden frame that hung on the wall of my Catechism class which my mother taught that year.

Click through to my Substack to read the full story!

The Most Powerful Rosary

Telling the story of the most powerful Rosary of my life; Join the Rosary Confraternity!

As a cradle Catholic and a Marian devotee, I’ve prayed countless Rosaries. I’ve prayed them in good times and in bad, in sorrow and in joy. I’ve prayed them as a child, a young adult rediscovering my faith and a seasoned mother. But the most powerful Rosary of my life was prayed this past year.

It wasn’t in the car or in my bed, at the park or over the kitchen sink but a hospital room where my daughter lay on life support. When things became dire I called for spiritual help.

The Franciscan Friars of the Immaculate came to my aid, coordinating for my daughter a blessing by the hospital chaplain and an anointing of the sick given by a priest from the diocesan headquarters across the street. Father assured me that he would come to the hospital as soon as he could to pray with me and my family.

It was day two in the ICU and a sudden decline and iffy prognosis left my husband and I terrified. Naturally, we called our mothers. It just so happened that they arrived at the same time and in God’s perfect timing, the friar followed. We greeted them all with somber thanks in the cold, stark waiting room while a procedure was performed.

The friar offered words of encouragement and passed out Rosary beads of Marian blue, silver and white. Of course, I was already clinging to my own, a large, strand of wooden beads that had long ago been blessed. I asked for confession for my husband and I so that nothing would hinder our prayers. We received absolution in a small, adjoined conference room before heading back into this spiritual battle.

“The holy Rosary is a powerful weapon. Use it with confidence and you’ll be amazed at the results.” -St. Josemaria Escriva

Our group processed through the halls to my daughter’s room, which was directly in front of the nurse’s station since her vitals were so poor. I walked in and placed my wooden rosary in her hand. The moment it touched her, my husband exclaimed that her oxygen saturation spiked. Momentarily, the screen displayed a number much higher than the grim ones we’d been seeing— a spark of hope.

What’s that supposed to be? The body of Christ?

“What’s that supposed to be? The body of Christ?”

He said it in a mocking tone through a half-smirk, half-scowl, as he held up a round water cracker. He had plucked it off the slap-dash charcuterie board I set out for our Christmas house guests—him and his family.

He was Christian, like me, but made sure to let me know how he felt about my Catholicism right there in my own home. He preached his version of the truth, pulling up conspiracy websites and videos in the cracked-screen phone he shoved in my face.

He ruthlessly spouted lies and misconceptions about my faith but refused any healthy debate or reasonable discussion. He was too caught up in his ego trip, raining down fire and brimstone in my parlor, telling me to repent and follow Jesus.

If only he could understand that Jesus is everything to me–to us.

“Mama, can you wash my foot?”

A Little Lent Reflection

Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings thou hast brought perfect praise.-Matthew 21:16

It was a typical busy morning with my kids. I had just finished slinging pancakes, slipping a whole one through my pre teen’s door before cutting the rest up into little bite-sized pieces and leaving a dollop of maple syrup in the smallest wedge of the divided plastic plates.

With the calvary distracted by breakfast, I finally had my chance. I grabbed my coffee and my copy of that month’s Magnificat and headed to the dining room. I settled at the table, out of the splash-zone of the eat-in kitchen table where my toddlers dipped their morsels and slurped down milk.

The readings contained the story of Mary Magdalene who showed her love for Jesus by using her hair to bathe his feet in her tears. Magdalene has always held a special place in my heart. Not only is she often misunderstood, but she believed in Jesus’ power to forgive and to heal.

Christ at the Center: Our Domestic Church

Making a home for my family until we make it home to Heaven.

For several years the walls of my home had been the same tan color. Its neutrality and tone served us well, hiding the little fingerprints and scuff marks that come with family life. But, soon the little ones grew out of the toddler stage and it became painfully obvious that the house was long overdue for a refresh.

I knew where I wanted to start, the front living room, or parlor. It’s where we receive our guests and welcome each other home. Where the dog barks and kids run as soon as Daddy walks in. Where I draw back the curtains each morning to let the light in and set flickering candles to relax at night.

I flipped through paint samples for days, finally choosing the lightest blue for the walls and the brightest white for the trim. We splurged on the highest quality, cleanable, smudge resistant paint that promised to cover the old color in just one coat. I stirred up the beautiful hue and hoped for the best.

I Found My Joy When I Found My Jesus

On a sunny wedding day and a cold time of desolation, I found my joy when I found my Jesus.

My husband Erik and I married on a sunny Saturday afternoon in the Spring at our rural hometown parish. After taking photos by the lake, we walked back to our car to catch up to the rest of our guests who were already en route to the reception. At the same time, the crowd for that evening’s Vigil Mass was settling in. We were giddy walking back, holding on to each other, talking and laughing along the way. I was trying my best to keep my heels from sinking into the grassy field while juggling my bouquet and keeping the train of my blush wedding dress from dragging in the dirt.

Sealed With a Cross

This article first appeared on CatholicMom.com

Please follow my writing there as well as the many wonderful contributors who share their hearts, talents and time for the Catholic Mom community!

Cait Winters tells the story of how her kids cheer her on through the Sign of the Cross.

It was lunchtime in the middle of a typically busy homeschooling day. We had spent the morning on a hike at nature co-op and still had math, cursive and reading to cover that afternoon. Homeschooling can be hard on a home (and a homemaker!) because most days, aside from my hardworking husband, everyone is here all day long. I wouldn’t trade this time serving my family for the world, but it often means cooking three meals a day and constant cycles of washing and drying to keep up our well-loved, humble home.

That morning I had overslept, being early-pregnant and tired and didn’t have a chance to unload the perpetual dishes. It was easy to leave and forget about the chores while on our hike but coming back to them was another story. The sink was half-full already, but I had hungry kids to feed, so I fired up the stove and sudsed up what I could. The smell of cooking was turning my stomach and everywhere I looked, my to-do list grew.

I did a swat-like Sign of the Cross, blessing myself as I caught my breath and forged ahead. The Sign of the Cross is a quick way for me to ask for heaven’s help without even saying a word. I broke a sweat but got through the chores, finally setting plates and drinks out for the kids and calling them to the kitchen table.

An Academic Faith: Thoughts on Life as a Full-Time Student, Homeschool Mama & a Perpetually Practicing Catholic

Last year, at four months post-partum with my fourth child, I returned to college. I took a semester off back in 2014 when I was still a single, working mom. It was to marry my husband. Soon children followed and love swept me away. Life at home opened me up to a deeper spirituality, homeschooling sparked a renewed love of learning and in 2024, I went back to school myself.

An Academic Faith-

When I was engaged to be married is when I really started to learn about the Catholic faith I had been born into. After having my first child young, I had a Baptist then non-denominational stint. It’s been said that the Church is a good psychologist and I wholeheartedly agree. Thanks to the sacraments, established by Jesus, I raised my daughter in the Church. Even when I denied my faith, I baptized her out of culture and a sense of familial duty. Perhaps the seeds of my youth were sprouting curious tendrils even then.

A Baby and Other Blessings: Life and Family Update

People often discuss the sacrificial nature of bringing children into the world. The aches of pregnancy, the pain of childbirth, the toll it can take to meet the needs of the helpless little baby God has placed in your care. These are valid realities, understandable feelings, but what we don’t talk about enough is what a “cross” it can be to have to wait.

I Never Meant to be a Catholic Blogger, or Even a Catholic & Why I’m Staying Both

2018 was a purely experimental year for this blog and for my writing but, I knew that I wanted to share relatable and encouraging stories inspired by my life. It goes without saying that my spirituality encompasses and is at the heart of every experience I have and everything that I do. The love of God and the many forms that it takes in my life is always my inspiration. I knew that this truth would come through some in the creative storytelling style of my writing. Maybe in undertones. Maybe even overtones. What I didn’t plan on exactly was God taking over completely.

If you knew me ten or even five years ago, you may be surprised to see my zeal for God and the Church. Back then I wouldn’t have believed you if you told me that I would be a holy water keeping, blessed candle lighting, novena saying, rosary wielding, joyful Catholic.
Continue reading “I Never Meant to be a Catholic Blogger, or Even a Catholic & Why I’m Staying Both”